Too Late An Immortal
by TobyWong
Summary: Following the explosion of the antique shop, Rachel discovers what awaits once mortality is over...
1. Chapter 1

**I**

Rachel Ellinstein traipsed heavily through the sidewalk of Hudson Street. The new shoes were killing her feet but her face gave away nothing. In her hands she held the bags with the Christmas presents for Connor and for Duncan, who had called in all of a sudden from Paris. She had bought a paper knife for Connor. She had been uncertain as to what to buy for Duncan. She did not know him that well. Given he lived in a boat, she had opted for one of those little boats inside a bottle.

Her eyes caught the glimpse of a man on the opposite street, looking at her. She halted and tried to spot him. He was gone. She wondered. Whoever the young man was, he reminded her of a boyfriend she had had. She had not thought of him in years. The last time had been in the New Year's Eve before 1985. Then the madness took over New York, impersonated by the Kurgan and her mind busied with the thought of losing Connor to that savage. In the end, Connor left anyway to Scotland after defeating the Kurgan and she was left on her own.

She had never liked using heels, but Connor insisted that a beautiful lady like her looked more beautiful in heels. She liked his flirts, and she regretted not having stayed in shape after his departure. Left by herself, she had gained some weight. Her skin had wrinkled in excess. She was on her late fifties, but she felt in her late seventies. Shortly ago, she had realised age had approached when one of her incisors stayed in the veal cutlet she had bitten. Connor had noticed she had aged when he returned, but had said nothing. His wife, Brenda, had died in a car accident. His face had looked even more anguished when he saw her. He had silenced but she knew him too well.

Rachel tittered, wondering why she had agreed to put on those heeled shoes. She had always hated them and he knew it. She reached the door of their house, and glanced at the sides. She spotted a bald man, standing by a headlight. He was wearing a black long coat and a black hat. She thought he might be a fan of Michael Jackson, that black singer with the high voice that had changed his skin to white. She smiled, containing a laughter that wanted to break out.

The man grinned in return. Rachel felt a shudder all over her. The grin was evil, and what panicked her most was the fact that he seemed to know her. His eyes were cold. She noticed a white line in his neck, among the black. The man was a Catholic priest. That made her chill. She had grown disgusted of religion, and avoided its followers, especially the Catholics. The death of her parents to the Nazis was a reason enough. She stared away and returned her eyes to the door. She put the key in the hole, and surprised when the door bounced open.

"Connor! Connor!" she called. She closed the door and locked it. She went to the elevator that led to the loft. She got off and climbed down the stairs, her ears perceiving a dim melodic tingle. She looked around and noticed a music box that was open over a table. Her eyes moved to her left and she saw the TV was on. On the screen, there were old images of her and Connor: his giving her that box for a birthday when she was a child, and his graduation. .

She smiled mirthfully, but only for a second. It was not like Connor to put the videocassette in the player and see those images. Technology was not an appeal to him. Duncan had been there on both occasions, so it was something disturbing. Why the video was being played?

The phone ring startled her. No one would be calling for an antique on Christmas Eve. It was another strange event in the chain of peculiarities the day seemed engulfed in. She looked at a side, realising the video was over. The phone rang again. It was almost defying her to pick the tube. She approached, and picked it up.

As she heard a beep, another and then another, coming from somewhere in the house, she remembered the man in the black clothes, the one that had made her afraid, and wondered if he would not have anything to do with it. Then suddenly all turned orange, and pain embraced her.

-----

Connor MacLeod was moving briskly back home. He had delivered the Christmas tree to the church as he did every year. He had nearly forgotten, and had sent Duncan away in order to be able to do it. He had called his friend to have a talk and chat about the old times, something that was not common in him. Poor Duncan, he thought. Well, they would meet at the bar at 8. Connor had said he would pay, but he knew he could bargain his way out of it.

He began to cross to the opposite street, where the antique shop he owned with Rachel was. For a second, he thought he had sensed another immortal around. It's Christmas Eve, darn it. Go elsewhere looking for a head. Then he heard the explosion and a massive wave of hot air pushed him back and down to the floor. He landed roughly and stared at what had been his antique shop, and where he had lived with... Rachel? Was she inside? In response to his thoughts, something that resembled a shoe landed near him. It was burnt, but he recognised the shoes she seldom wore, but had put on today.

"Rachel!" he shrieked painfully at the blaze of fire before him.

-----

"I'm sorry, Connor."

Inside the New York City Morgue, in front of a metal table, over which was a body beneath a white sheet, Connor and Duncan MacLeod were sitting. Connor dejectedly, Duncan sympathetically. He had been lured by the fire and found his mentor and friend weeping in the curb. He had stayed with him and born all the ineffectual enquiries that peeving cop Garfield had asked. Connor had remained blankly, enduring the abusive words the cop directed at him. In the end, they had released them.

"It's... I never thought..." Connor stammered, his voice broken.

"We never want them to. But we can't protect them all the time." Duncan consoled him softly.

"I should have protected her!" Connor snapped as tears began to stream down his cheeks.

"You couldn't have done anything."

Connor did not reply. He just let out a low lamentation and hid his face in his hands. Duncan breathed deeply. He knew what Rachel meant to his friend. Connor had found her amid the ruins in World War II. Her parents had been taken to a concentration camp. Connor took her in and raised her as his daughter. He had seen how she grew into a mature woman and he hoped she would die at old age. He was not prepared for her murder.

"Will you help me, Duncan?"

"Of course, my friend."

They felt a dim buzz in the back of their heads. Connor exchanged glances with Duncan.

"I don't know how I..."

"I think it will be best if you let me." Duncan stood up and patted Connor amicably.

"Will you take care of it for me?"

"Of course. I remember what a pain in the a you were as a teacher."

Connor smiled darkly. Duncan turned his eyes to the corpse, as did Connor. The shape stirred and suddenly it rose up, sitting in the table. Both immortals contained the horror and remained cold as statues.

There were two big lumps in the face, two pieces of burnt skin, one nestled below the right eye, the other below the mouth, both resembling pieces of dry dough. Her shoulders and extremities were devoid of any skin, and her breasts were hideously shrivelled. The part of her body that had got through it without serious injuries was the area from her stomach to her sex, where the trace of a small burn could be seen near the navel.

"What... what...?" Rachel asked, shivering like a child.

Connor opened his mouth but Duncan raised his hand, motioning him to stop.

"You are one of us, Rachel. You are immortal."


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

"How can it be?" Rachel asked, staring at the burns on her arms. Connor had brought her another sheet to cover her naked body a bit more.

"We are born with it, Rachel. A violent death triggers it." Duncan spoke calmly, trying not to startle her. "It can happen to you when you are a child, or..." he stopped, realising he had picked the wrong words.

"When you are an old and haggard woman like I am!" She spat up bitterly.

"Rachel..." Duncan wanted to comfort her, but he knew it was not his part to play. They had never been very close.

"You knew about this, Connor?" she called out to his adoptive father, who was mounting guard at the door, should any doctor turn up to perform the autopsy.

Connor stared guiltily at her. Duncan felt out of place.

"I... I wanted to keep you safe..." Connor mumbled after a long silence.

"But why you did not tell me?"

Connor plopped on a table, breathing heavily.

"Rach, our life is a hell. I didn't want you to endure what Duncan and I have endured. I wanted..."

"You wanted me to grow old and die bathed in my own fluids?" Rachel grunted. Connor looked away consumed by pain.

"Rachel..." Duncan interceded. "This is not getting us anywhere. We have to get you out of here."

"For what?" she replied. Connor realised Rachel was in denial, protesting against whatever he and Duncan suggested. During her childhood, after he had rescued her from the horrors of war, she had spent weeks like that, shying away from everyone and everything.

"What do you think a doctor will say when they come and find you talking and breathing..." Connor paused and carried on, his voice breaking "... when you were nothing but a corpse?"

"I can't go anywhere. Look at my skin!" she cried.

"These wounds will heal, Rachel. It will take some time, but they will wither."

Rachel had burst into tears. Connor approached and embraced her. She tried to push him away but eventually gave in to him. Duncan contemplated the scene with certain merriment. His awakening had been in the aftermath of a battle. His father had banished him. He had wandered around the Highlands, and even found an immortal that surrendered his head to him. Only after several deaths in those years, Connor had found him and explained him. He was glad Rachel would not have to undergo a period of uncertainty.

"You can come to my place in Seacouver. Tessa and Richie are still in Paris."

"It's a good idea," Connor agreed.

"But..." Rachel shivered. She wondered how she would sit in Duncan's convertible and stare blissfully at the streets as the wind blew her hair. She would have to bandage herself all over like a mummy, dress up in long coats and wear a hat. She would resemble the character of that film with that Irish actor, Liam Neeson. "I can't walk around like this, or be in your car."

"We'll use my Porsche. If Duncan doesn't mind driving alone."

"I could drive the Porsche, and Connor would drive my car alone."

"I won't let you alone with my daughter, James Bond rip-off!" Connor joked with a smile.

The two Highlanders looked at each other and burst into laughter. Rachel joined them, feeling slightly less nervous and edgy. But she could guess what was coming in the future and she silenced as the others continued.

-----

Duncan was behind the wheel of Connor's Porsche, parked in a dark alley. He heard a whistle and looked at a lateral door near the car. Connor appeared, and let Rachel move past him and towards the car. She wore a long doctor uniform that reached the floor. On her face he had fixed some bandages to cover the burns. Duncan pulled the second seat forward to let Rachel get inside the backseat. He pulled it back to let Connor sit, but he found his clansman beaming at him with his hand stretched forward. Duncan grinned and handed him the keys.

Rachel screamed in pain. She held her head as she twisted in the backseat. Connor drew out his Japanese katana. Duncan opened the car door and got off, producing another katana very similar to Connor's.

"Now's a fine time, darn it!" he commented.

"Can you see anyone?" Connor asked.

"I'll check. You should watch for her."

Connor moved to comfort his troubled daughter. In the meantime, Duncan walked into the street. He looked around and spotted in the very distance a, dark-haired man moving away. A newbie surely. He folded his sword and returned to get in the car. Rachel was feeling better, but her eyes gave away the panic she felt.

"Someone passing by."

"We have to get to your hotel, so you can pick your stuff."

"Fine then." Connor began to drive.

-----

Daylight broke when they were still on their way to Duncan's hotel. The younger Highlander packed everything, paid the bill, and went to the parking lot for his Ford Thunderbird. He threw the bags in the backseat and jumped inside. He started the engine and drove out. He stopped by Connor's and waved.

"Are we ready?" he asked.

"It's 8 AM. Do you think we will get there before dinner?" Connor asked.

"Perhaps, if you can drive over 40, old man."

"Heh-heh." Connor scowled at Duncan without true malice. "You'll have to pay lunch."

They began their way. The exit was via the speedway that headed west, but to get there they had to drive to the other corner of the city. Duncan showed the way, while Connor followed. Occasionally, the elder Highlander would push the horn and motion Duncan to move faster. The younger one would beam at him through the rear view mirror and put him a mock do-not-bug-me face. Rachel found the little game amusing. She only hoped they did not crash each other.

They were near the speedway when they heard a police siren. Connor noticed a police car behind him and pulled over. Duncan did likewise and he got off the car. He glared at the officer who was approaching Connor's car, the irreverent imbecile Garfield himself. He moved towards them.

"Leaving town, Nash?" he overheard.

"Yes, Garfield. My friend and I are leaving."

"You heard the news? The corpse of your secretary is missing."

Duncan wanted to punch the imbecile. The tone he had used was vile. This jerk had no respect for anyone. He remembered Connor had mentioned him, when they met in Seacouver: a punk in police clothes. Connor had made another comment about another policeman who was bad at following people, but Duncan could not remember to whom he was referring to. However, many cops at the department seemed acquainted with Connor... with Russell Nash.

"Bad news." Connor commented bitterly.

"You haven't stolen it?"

"Me? Why?"

"Just wondering. I assume you'll let me check your car."

Connor glanced at Duncan, seriousness and urgency in his face. It was only a split second, before the elder one's face became a mask of mildness. Duncan headed back to the car and turned the engine on. He checked the rear view again. Garfield was heading to check the trunk, so intent that he missed Rachel. She must have ducked, he thought. Connor was staring at him. He nodded and so did his clansman. They both stepped on the gas pedal and the two cars speeded away, leaving the puzzled cop behind.

They reached the speedway and drove away, heading to Seacouver. When they at a safe distance from New York, Duncan pulled over and got off. Connor did in like. They grinned at each other.

"That was stupid." Duncan commented seriously.

"I know."

"But it was fun, right?" His face relaxed and a smile broke.

"Like the old days." Connor laughed.

"Guys." Rachel called from inside the Porsche. "Can we get going? They might be coming behind us."

The two Highlanders bowed mockingly at the one-person audience before them. "We are yours to command, milady," they said in unison and Rachel smiled. They returned to their cars and began driving. Seacouver was ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

Getting to Seacouver took them half a day, with two stops. The first was a quick stop at that fast food restaurant with the yellow M, as Rachel called it, for some hamburgers. She wanted to try how they tasted now. She had avoided them, fearful that her kidney would explode, but now that she knew she would not die of it, she decided to give it a go. Duncan went for them and as he queued, he thought about his two companions.

Connor seemed better. That gloominess that had taken over him seemed at bay, at least for the time being. Rachel seemed to have accepted it. Duncan knew it was temporary. Panic would overcome her again, especially if another immortal turned up. Connor and him would have to try and keep her in a good mood. That would not be that difficult.

He returned to the Porsche, with two paper bags with six hamburgers in each. Connor ate three, Duncan another three, and Rachel devoured the other six. Duncan did not remember that appetite increased after the awakening to immortality. But he had been concerned with other matters by then. So had Connor. He returned to his car and they carried on.

They stopped a couple of hours later to have a drink. This time, it was Connor went and bought three bottles of Coke. He returned. Duncan was sitting on the hood of the Porsche. The younger one put his hands together, extended them horizontally and put his left ear over them. Connor understood. Rachel had fallen asleep.

"This is too much for her."

"I know, Connor." Duncan said, suddenly startled by a memory of the past.

"You were right."

"About?"

"That Irish woman, Kate."

"Kate..." Duncan looked away, wondering how Connor had known what he was thinking. A flash of a beautiful brown-haired woman visited his head. "It's different, Connor."

"Really?" The elder one's voice was breaking.

"Yes. I had the chance to let her go and blew it. You didn't."

"I could..."

"What!" Duncan snapped. "What were you going to do? Toss her in the first orphanage and say 'Sorry lass, we spent four years together, but you will become immortal so I don't want you around!' "

"I could have explained her... even..."

"Kill her when she was in the flower of her youth? Thank God you didn't." Duncan put his hand on Connor's shoulder. "You did well, my friend. Very well. What happened was not your fault."

"I'm not that sure. Explosions like that... "

"You think it was one of us?"

"I sensed a presence. Very briefly. It was oddly familiar but I can't figure out who it was."

Duncan thought. "Back in the morgue, the presence we felt. It was a young, dark-haired man. I thought it was someone passing by." Connor felt stung by something. He hardened his face. He stood up and began to fidget. "What is it?"

"It's... nothing."

"Don't start with that again, Connor."

"Look at her, Duncan." Connor was gazing at his daughter, deeply asleep in the backseat of the Porsche. "I wonder what she's dreaming..."

-----

1954. Rachel Ellinstein, a woman in her early twenties, with ample hips and plump stomach, was silently passing the pages of Jane Austen's "Emma" by the porch of the house he shared with his adoptive father, under the pale moonlight and a small electric light. She raised her eyes when she heard someone whistling complimentarily at her. A young, dark-haired man, with a tender face, wearing a green shirt and a pair of black trousers standing near a row of tall bushes in the dark motioned at her. She beamed and approached.

They kissed deeply. His hands began to slide under the dress she wore, caressing her hips. She giggled. Now his hands were on her buttocks. She began to undo the buttons of his shirt. When all were undone, he took it off. She felt his hands removing her panties and chuckled. They lay on the grass as she undid the button of his trousers and pulled down the zipper, revealing his brown and swollen underwear. They fondled each other as he lay over her. She began to pull down his trousers, and she felt his cold hands caressing her breasts. She removed his trousers and let him go inside of her.

"Oliver." She moaned as he pushed lightly against her. He was soft at first, then he went wild, and began thrusting inside her. He gasped as he did so and she replied in like. She moaned again, this time louder. Suddenly he stopped, got out of her and began to dress. "What is it?" Rachel asked puzzled.

"I... I have to go, baby."

"Why?" She did not understand. They had been together for six months. They had started having relations a month and a half ago. An introduction to each other's parents was due. It was not that he did not care for her, or that the place was inappropriate. They had done it twice there already. It was something... she could not guess what it was.

Already dressed up, he leant in to kiss her and began his way out. He stopped short. She looked above the bushes and spotted her adoptive father, Connor MacLeod, standing nearby, his eyes fixed on Oliver. His eyes travelled from him to her, and when he noticed her, Connor looked devastated, as if a truck had just ran him over. Rachel reddened as she began to dress. The other's eyes had returned to Oliver and were studying him intently.

"Sir, let me explain this..."

"Explain what? You were getting laid with my daughter." Connor replied hardly.

"Connor..." Rachel joined, her hair a mess and her dress creased. "I..."

"Who is this, Rachel?" he demanded sternly.

"Oliver MacLeod, sir." He introduced himself. "My intentions with your daughter are serious."

"MacLeod?" Connor's face relaxed a bit. "From the clan MacLeod?"

"No, sir." Oliver loosened too. "Not directly at least. I was born here."

"And how long ago was that?" he remarked the "ago".

"1929, sir. The day of the Crash."

"Connor, remember I told you I wanted you to meet someone?"

"You never told me it was someone you were... fornicating with!"

"And I shouldn't. I wanted you to know him not only because I love him, also because... he is a MacLeod like you."

"A MacLeod, sir? An unexpected surprise." Oliver broke in. Connor glared at him.

"I'm Connor MacLeod." He offered his hand, evidently out of mere courtesy. Oliver shook it gladly.

"Connor MacLeod? Like the legendary Highlander... that was banished and returned later to avenge his father?"

"Heh-heh." Connor laughed. Rachel guessed that he must have felt amused by the mistake Oliver had just made, though he surely wanted to kill him with his bare hands. "No, that was Duncan."

"You are right." Oliver said. "Connor MacLeod was the one that was wounded by the golden giant."

"Let's go inside, Rachel." Connor cut off the conversation.

"It's been a pleasure, sir. Despite the circumstances." Oliver said respectfully and kindly, offering his hand.

"I wish I could say the same." The Highlander grunted as he left Oliver's hand hanging in the air and motioned Rachel inside. The young suitor glanced at her with a trace of disappointment, and another of brokenheartedness. Then he went away.

"That was mean, Connor." Rachel protested. "He is a fine boy."

"You will not see him anymore." Connor commanded. "And that's final."

"But..."

"But nothing, Rachel. Go to your room."

"Connor..." she insisted, her eyes shedding tears.

"Go to your room!" he bellowed, to which she obeyed, running inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

She woke up and realised the sky was dark already. She brushed her eyes and noticed the car was going slower. She looked ahead. They were in a city, and Duncan's Thunderbird was pulling over. Connor was doing the same.

"Are we there yet?"

"We are, Rach." Connor's tender voice tranquillised her.

Duncan turned off the car and went to open the garage. Once done, he waved at Connor who drove the car inside. Then the owner himself drove his car in. He left his car and closed. Rachel looked around. The garage was small. She did not like small places, another quirk the war had marked her with. Duncan showed them into a loft which was beautifully furnished.

"It's not much, but I think it will do for a while." He commented modestly.

"It's... nice." She said slowly. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Connor, do you mind sleeping in the sofa?"

The elder Highlander smirked. "Sofa?"

"Rachel will have Richie's room. And I won't share my bed with you!"

Connor blinked feigning seductiveness. "Oh, Duncan. I'll still respect you in the morning," he said with a mock charming grin. Duncan grinned, taking the joke.

"But I won't." He replied, following his clansman. "So to the sofa you go."

Connor nodded with false irritation and observed how Rachel was shown to the young Richie Ryan's bedroom. He remembered the teenager. He had broken into Duncan's antique shop, but his latent immortality had bewared Duncan. At the same time, Slan Quince made a spectacular entrance to challenge the younger Highlander. Only there was someone else looking for Quince: Connor himself. He had told Duncan to take care of the boy, but he never expected Richie would be taken under Duncan's wing. It was the same thing he had done for Rachel. Now he regretted it, and hoped Richie would grow old and die of natural causes.

Duncan returned. Connor followed him to the kitchen, where the homeowner prepared some coffee.

"How's Tessa?"

"She seems to be taking it well."

"And the kid?"

"Richie... er... he got involved with an older woman and ended up broken-hearted."

"How older?"

"Twenty years older. It was not one of us."

Duncan handed Connor a cup of warm coffee. Connor drank and startled slightly upon hearing the bell ring. He glanced at Duncan who went to check who it was. Connor moved to the living room and saw how a stunning, yet not quite beautiful, blonde woman rushed inside, halting as if surprised of seeing him there. Duncan was following her, with his best chivalrous face.

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were alone. Hi."

"Hi." Connor replied gaily.

"I'm Randi McFarlane."

"Connor MacLeod."

"Are you a cousin or something of him?"

"Sort of. You are...?"

Randi smiled, slightly embarrassed. He could tell she was the dominating kind, the sort of woman that did not like being ordered, enquired, or cornered. Pretty much like Brenda, he thought. She sat down without asking permission. He saw Duncan was growing irritated but at the same time he maintained his gallantry. Connor found the scene amusing.

"Randi is a reporter. I only wonder what she is doing here." Duncan spoke without emotion.

"I was driving by and saw lights in. Thought about calling in, to see if you wanted to talk about the explosion that happened at the antique shop of Con..." she stopped, realising of something. She looked sympathetically at Connor as she stood up. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. MacLeod."

"Thanks." Connor said curtly. "Neither him nor I have any comment to make now. Perhaps tomorrow."

Randi eyed him strangely. He knew he had spoken too calmly for someone who had just lost a aunt, as those who were acquainted with him thought of Rachel, who was also Russell Nash's aunt. She grinned and Duncan showed her the way out. He sipped his coffee calmly.

"She'll come back tomorrow," Duncan said.

"She reminds me of Brenda."

"She resembles her in a way, but..."

"I know, Duncan. Now if you don't mind, I'm tired, and we have much to do tomorrow." Connor said tiredly.

"We can't chat a bit?"

"I'm tired, Duncan." Again, the joker arose. "Unless you want to talk in bed."

"Night, Connor." Duncan said funnily, leaving Connor on his own.

-----

The following day, the two Highlanders gladdened their eyes with the sight of Rachel. The burns on her face were only a memory, the pain was gone and, for what Rachel told, the rest was slowly returning to normality. She looked younger, as if the wrinkles had died in the fire. She sipped her tea in silence.

"Is there something I can do here? Washing-up, or maybe do the ironing?"

"Rachel..." Connor spoke as kindly as he could. "There are bigger issues you... we must attend."

"Such as...?" Rachel eyed at him, then at Duncan. She shook her head and leant on her arms. "No. I won't do it." she said childishly.

"You have to, Rach."

"I can't." She cried. "I can't live on the edge of a sword like you do."

"Now you can't." Duncan coughed. "But in time, you will. I spent six years under his wing, until he thought I was ready."

"It's different. You are strong men. I'm..." she shivered. "An old lady."

"Won't you at least give it a try?" Connor asked, putting a puppy face Rachel had never been able to refuse. She giggled.

"OK." She accepted.

-----

Duncan was wielding his katana. He moved his arm left and right. Rachel imitated him, holding a light rapier she found rather heavy.

"Feel the flow of the sword. Make it one with you." She heard Duncan said.

Connor was contemplating the scene, his katana standing vertically beside him, his hand on the grip.

"I think I understand." She said. Indeed, her movement was fluid, and not awkward as when they had begun.

"Good." Rachel lowered her sword and glanced around. The place was a derelict space, probably a warehouse. Construction materials were all around. Apparently, Duncan had bought it once, intending to build something, but in the end he found it ripe to train people there. "Now let's practice."

Duncan struck at her softly. Rachel put up her sword without strength. He hooked her sword in his and made it fly away. Connor stood up and handed her his katana. She found it heavier. Duncan moved forward again. Rachel swung her sword up, in a reflex to defend herself. He hit her blade and the force of the blow made her fall. She stood up, looking disappointed.

"I told you I can't do this."

"Of course you can." Connor said. "Nakano was your age by the time he became immortal and lived more than a thousand years." He took the sword from her hands. "Perhaps what you need to see is how to use it first." He glanced at Duncan, who grinned.

The two Highlanders took distance and made a reverence. Connor struck. Duncan blocked masterly his blow, and countered with an upward swing that Connor avoided. They stepped back. Connor attacked again and his sword got past Duncan's defence, making a shallow cut in his shoulder. Rachel shrieked in horror. Duncan smiled and struck. His downward chop was blocked, but he connected a kick in Connor's cheek, who staggered back.

"Duncan... we're trying to show her how to use a sword, not giving her an accelerated course of martial arts." Connor lectured. Duncan grinned silently. "Star Wars, not Van Damme..."

Duncan struck again, interrupting Connor. The younger Highlander feinted right and hit left. Connor fell in his trap and received a hard blow on his side. Still, the elder Highlander lunged harshly and stabbed Duncan deeply, piercing through his stomach. Rachel screamed at the sight of the tip of Connor's blade erupting out, dripping blood, of Duncan's stomach. Connor retired the sword, realising the exhibition had gone too far, and that he had let out all his frustration and bitterness in that blow. Duncan fell dead.

"That shouldn't have happened." He cursed out loud. Rachel approached the dead corpse and touched it. It was lifeless... until it suddenly stirred. She fell on her buttocks and saw how Duncan returned to life. She had not seen it since... Connor had rescued her.

"That hurt."

"Sorry, Duncan."

"No problem, Connor. I think she's had enough for today."


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

Rachel was walking alone in the dark. The street seemed endless but she carried on looking for the corner. She then felt it. A tingle in the back of her head, not painless but certainly not painful either. She looked at either side. Try as she might, she stood no chance against an immortal, let alone unarmed.

She began to run and she heard the footsteps behind her. Every step she took was followed by one of whoever was behind her. Only the steps of that person were loud and echoed in the darkness. She saw a shape in the far away distance, approaching. She felt safe for only a second. She realised who it was. The bald man with the hat that she had seen the day of her death. He was grinning evilly, that grin that made her shudder. She turned to run to the other side. She stopped. The same man was behind her. She saw the entrance to an alley and headed without thought in. A third shape blocked her way... the same man. She was cornered. They began to draw in. She screamed in terror, calling out for help...

"Rachel. Rachel!"

She felt shaken by someone. Behind half-closed eyes she saw Connor holding her. She looked around without moving her head. It was the bedroom. She was in bed. It had all been a bad dream.

"Are you OK, Rachel?" Duncan was by the door, concerned as Connor was.

"Yes... why?" she lied.

"You were screaming in between dreams." Connor said softly, as he embraced his daughter.

"I don't want to cause you worry, Connor." She whispered lovingly.

"I'd still worry." He said tenderly. Duncan smiled at the scene and moved away.

-----

Minutes later, Connor left her and headed out. He found Duncan with a cup of coffee in hands.

"Can't sleep?" At Duncan's negative, he spoke again. "I don't think I can either." He sat by his clansman, who served him some coffee. He sipped and sighed. "This is killing me."

"I'm disturbed by her dreams, Connor."

"So do I. It puzzles me. She screams out loud to someone to keep away from her. She cries for help. It's like..."

"She has given a face to..." Duncan breathed in. "whoever planted the bomb."

"You think she saw him... or her?"

"It is something we haven't considered. But who would be so reckless to do that, knowing she would resurrect?"

Connor plunged the coffee down his throat. "Only someone who doesn't care."

"Anyway, I think we should discuss this with her."

"Tomorrow. I'll stay up, just in case she should have more of those fits."

-----

The following morning, Rachel looked terrible. She stared in distress at Duncan when he sat by her as she had some tea and toasts for breakfast.

"We have to talk."

"About?" she queried as she yawned.

"Connor and I..." he paused, noticing Connor had drawn a chair and joined them, "we have reasons to believe you know who did it."

"I..." she shivered. Her teeth almost chattered. "I don't know."

"Rachel..." Connor said kindly. "We think you do. What do you remember from that day?"

Her eyes went moist. "I was returning home with the gifts. I walked in. The video was on. The phone rang... the beeps... those awful beeps... one, two three." Her voice went higher into a scream. "then I heard the explosion, all went up in an orange blaze and..." she stood up "the pain... all over me... consuming me!" she broke into tears. Connor patted her back.

"Don't worry, Rachel."

The bell rang. Duncan glanced at his watch, and let out a silent damnation. Only one person would be inconsiderate enough to call in at seven thirty in the morning. He stared at Connor, who shook his head, his mouth speaking mute profanities as well. Both Highlanders left the kitchen and the troubled Rachel by herself.

Duncan opened, expecting to find Randi MacFarlane with her recorder ready. Instead, a slim black officer was standing there, staring detachedly at him. He walked inside without permission and into the living room, where Connor put his best courteous face, also surprised by Randi not being there.

"Hello, I'm Sergeant Bennett. You are..."

"Connor MacLeod."

"Too many MacLeods around lately. I... I am sorry for the death of your secretary. I'm here to talk to your relative."

"What is it, Bennett?" Duncan asked without much friendliness.

"I have a report involving you in the disappearance of the body of the gentleman's secretary."

"I have no idea. Please enlighten me." Duncan mocked.

"I received a report from the NYPD. It says that a certain Russell Nash escaped a police inspector, and you were with him."

"Nash was the former owner of the shop. I bought it but let him manage it."

"I see." Bennett checked a notebook. "I understand Miss Ellinstein was Nash's aunt. You think he might have taken the body?" The question was aimed at Duncan.

"It must have been a coincidence. I never met this guy."

"He didn't." Connor ratified.

"Fine then. I might return later. Good day, gentlemen."

Bennett left. Connor ran behind the cop. Duncan took a few moments to react before going after his clansman.

"Nothing." He overheard Connor saying, as Bennett did leave this time.

"Connor? What was it?"

"I told you Duncan, it's nothing." They returned inside. "Rachel can't stay here. She would be recognised eventually, and she can't live like a mope."

"What do you suggest?"

"Take her to Paris."

"Paris?"

"It is not just a getaway." Connor trudged heavily towards the sofa. "Sean Burns is there. He can help."

"I don't follow, Connor."

"Shortly after I found Rachel, she was closed in herself. She did not speak, and refused to eat. I took her to Sean, who treated her and cured her. She might be needing his help again."

"I see. But why would she need help?"

"To tell us who did it. I'm sure she knows."

"I will have to talk to Tessa."

"Fine."

"Will you come with us?"

"No... I have another place to go."

"Where?"

"Nowhere, Duncan."

"Connor..."

No reply.


	6. Chapter 6

**VI**

Paris, Two Weeks Later.

Duncan got off the taxi and helped Rachel off. She looked around. Paris was a beautiful city. She wished Connor had been with her to see it. Duncan motioned towards a boat, helped her in and opened the door. A slender, beautiful blonde woman smiled at Duncan. She rushed into his arms and kissed him. Rachel felt uncomfortably out of place.

"Rachel. This is Tessa Noel."

"Hi." Tessa shook her hand and kissed her on both cheeks.

"Pleased to meet you." Rachel said.

"Where is Richie?" Tessa's eyes went moist. She dabbed them.

"He is in the police department."

"What did he do?""

Rachel grabbed her head, feeling a disturbing headache. Duncan glimpsed at her and then to the door. A young teenager with red curly hair appeared before him.

"Mac!"

"Hey, Richie." He stared reproachingly.

"I... It was a dude that wanted to slice me like you do guys.""

"This is Rachel Ellinstein. Rachel Johnson, according to her new passport."

Richie shook her hand and made a comic reverence. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am!"

"We have a visit to make. We'll return by night." Duncan said seriously.

"Watch your back." Tessa warned.

"It's not my back that worries me."

-----

Driving a rented car, Duncan took Rachel to the house of a long time friend, Sean Burns. Burns was a psychologist. He had helped Duncan see things in a different light. But now it was Rachel who needed his help. The nightmares still haunted her. He was worried.

He thought of his clansman. Connor had disappeared one morning, without saying goodbye, farewell, arrivederci, adios, or sayonara. He just vanished. He did not leave a note or anything. Duncan felt the situation had taken its toll on him. And there was the matter of the dark-haired guy. Connor seemed to know who he was but had said nothing.

He parked amid a row of trees and they both got off. Lots of trees were all around them, and in the distance, a large and quaint house stood majestically. Rachel held her head, feeling again the throbbing headache. A man who looked in his late thirties, neatly dressed in a brown suit, waved at them from the stairs of the old house. Duncan approached and embraced him.

"You look well, Sean."

"You let your hair grow." Sean commented funnily.

"This is Rachel."

Sean gazed at the startled lady. He beamed recognising her. A trace of sadness glimmered in his eyes.

"Hello, Rachel. It's been a long time since I last saw you."

"Hi... I don't quite..."

"Don't worry. You were only a child when I met you."

"Yes..." she smiled embarrassed.

"Connor phoned me a couple of weeks ago and told me. I know what to do."

"He didn't say where he was, right?"

"At your place, or so he said."

"Doesn't matter. I'll return in a couple of hours."

-----

"Now, Rachel. I want you to look at my hand." She did so. "Focus on it. Examine it." Her eyes travelled through his hand. The lines in his hand, his neat skin. Suddenly she felt dizzy and lost. She felt her brain punching inside, struggling to get out. "Tell me what happened..."

She began to speak. Nothing she omitted, not even the bald man of her nightmares. Sean heard carefully and took notes. She spoke from a third-person perspective, witnessing herself undergo the last moments of her mortal life. She did not shiver or yell, not even when telling the horrid way she died.

He closed his hand. Rachel left the trance she was in. "Everything's OK, doctor?"

"Sean, please. Yes, everything is OK. I want to talk about a dark-haired man who you mentioned."

Rachel was taken aback. "Dark-haired man?"

"You mentioned his name was... Oliver?"

She squirmed in the chair, uneasy. "He was a boyfriend I had when I was young. I thought I saw him..."

"But he should be your age."

"I know. It was a trick of the mind merely."

"Indeed." Sean looked away. "So, how do you get along with Duncan?"

"He is really kind."

"Is he teaching you well?"

"I can't fight yet. And I find the sword too heavy to carry it inside my clothes."

Sean smiled. "That's a problem we all have. I have something for you."

He stood up and went to a large built-in wardrobe. He opened it and looked for something. He produced a cane, passed a tissue over it to wipe the dust and approached. She grinned, complimented but at the same time somewhat offended.

"I am not that old to use it."

Sean grinned understandingly. He pulled the top of the car and a blade was revealed. She stared baffled. He folded the blade again and handed it to her.

"This is a sword cane. Connor used it for a while in the late 18th century. He gave it to me for my birthday in... 1913." He smiled with some embarrassment. "I haven't taken much care of it, I fear. I want you to have it."

"I can't. It's a present you were given."

"Just watch it for me. It's the lightest blade you will find." He smiled, as she grabbed her head yet again. "Duncan's back."

They walked out and indeed, Duncan was waiting. Inside the car, Tessa and Richie were there as well. Sean waved and Rachel climbed down the stairs, using the cane. Duncan recognised the cane and nodded approvingly. She kissed Sean twice in the cheeks and joined them. Tessa eased into the backseat to let Rachel the passenger seat. Duncan waved one last time at Sean and drove away.

"So... how was it?" The Highlander asked.

"It was a bald man with a hat. Evil all around him."

Duncan widened his look, surprised of how Sean had lifted the blockage she had imposed upon herself. "Name?"

"I don't know." Deep in her mind, something kicked in her mind and she somehow felt she was lying.


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

Paris, Ten Years Later.

Sitting in a seat in the back of a cinema located in the expensive part of Paris, Rachel was eating popcorn as she watched the movie adaptation of the life of Vercingetorix. The movie was dull and though she liked the lead actor, she felt he was stunningly miscast.

As she watched the hero encourage his men, her mind drifted over the events of the last ten years. Shortly after arriving in Paris, she had been left on her own. Duncan, Richie and Tessa returned to Seacouver. She stayed in the boat, where she led a calm and quiet life. A few immortals called in looking forward to challenge Duncan, but finding in Rachel an unworthy opponent, they went away.

Duncan returned eventually, with bad news: Tessa and Richie had been shot. Richie had become immortal, but she had died. He would be on an off over the years and many strange events would occur to him. During those events Sean and Richie would die by his sword. She lost the boat in an explosion, while she was away. Now she lived in a house she had been bequeathed as per the will of Russell Nash in 1985.

Duncan had been gone for four years now. Rachel had improved her skills under the tutelage of an immortal Duncan introduced her to. He was a man she felt she could not really trust. She found him cagey and opportunistic. But Adam Pierson had made her able to stand at least some fight.

She had taken only a head in all that time, and it was something she wished it had not happened. One night, a blond little boy came across her. He claimed he was unarmed, alone and new into immortality and Rachel fell victim of the maternal instinct all women have. They walked arm in arm until the kid suddenly made her trip and she fell roughly. He revealed a minute sword, but long enough to chop off her head. Rachel unsheathed the blade of her cane and swung it forward to scare him away. She did more than that. The kid's head fell before her eyes. The Quickening overwhelmed her. It felt so right, and so terribly wrong. The power and knowledge of the kid were passed on to her. His name was Kenneth, he looked 12 yet was 800. She sensed the bitterness and anger trapped behind his cherub face.

Her head sensed an immortal around. She gripped the cane strongly. She heard someone sitting right behind her. It was that immortal, whoever it was. She felt how that person leant in so close she could feel the breathing on her neck. He said her name with a neat Scottish accent that for a second made her believe it was Connor. But a second later, she realised the voice was filled with wickedness and evil. She shivered as she turned.

The bald hatted man was gazing at her too near for her comfort, only that the hat was not there anymore, and his brow glinted supernaturally in the darkness. His eyes were filled with a saturnine cold that gave her the creeps. He grinned knowingly. In the screen, Vercingetorix's troops stormed to battle. She heard the gasps of the wounded as her eyes struggled to hold the bald man's eyes. He blinked and laid back. She blinked, feeling tiredness after having endured a face to face with the eyes of Hell.

"It is a bad movie." He commented. Now the accent was strange, hard to decipher. No one would be able to tell where he came from. "Read the books about that French corpse."

"I'd still like to watch it." Rachel replied, feigning a hardness she was completely devoid of.

"Rachel... I'm trying to be _nice_." He said slowly, modulating every sound of the last word.

"Nice people introduce themselves."

"Oh, Rachel. You have so much of Connor's arrogance, but I feel that you're imitating it only." She shuddered at his words. "I'm Jacob Kell."

Rachel felt his heart being squeezed by angst. Jacob Kell, the name rang a bell. He had been Connor's friend before he became immortal. Years later, Kell had led the execution of Caiolin, Connor's mother, while the son was in a cell. He escaped just to see his mother die.

"Why...?"

"Why did I..." he grinned "kill you?" He seemed to chuckle as he looked for the words. "When I noticed you were going to become immortal, I realised Connor would suffer more with you being one of us, never knowing when you are to..." Kell balled his hand, put out his thumb, and made it run from side to side of his neck.

"You want to finish me? Do it!" she defied, this time truly, not pretending something she did not feel. A "shhh" came from somewhere in the audience. Cinemas are meant to watch films, not to chat, someone else yelled in French.

On the screen, Vercingetorix killed an enemy. She heard the gasp of the dead one as Kell smirked, savouring the scene. His eyes went from the screen to her. He opened his coat and showed the inside to Rachel. He was unarmed. She gripped her cane by the hilt, ready to draw.

"Take your shot. But you should look at your left." She glanced left. On the back too, but far from them, there were five people: a young woman, a Jamaican-looking man, a bald African-American man, an Asian shorthaired man, and a guy who was dressed in striking clothes, with his hair bleached. "If you muster up enough courage to unsheathe that rusty blade, you'd have me. But you'd do it, Rachel? Cold-blood murder? In front of a crowd? Expose immortals just to get rid of me? You would have to fight your way out of here against them. And if, by a cosmic decree of God, you were to survive the five of them, all the immortals in the world would seek you. And not even Connor and Duncan would be able to handle them all. Because once the rules are broken, the punishment is not by the rules." She released the cane and it fell noiselessly to the empty seat beside her. "I thought so. You're a coward. Connor's very image. You fear too much the others. I don't. I could take your head off now and glorify in your pitiful quickening. The others may come later. Because I don't fear them, you know why? Because I, I don't care about the Rules or about the Game. All I want is Connor MacLeod's head, and I will have it... in the very end."

"Why?" She managed to mutter. She felt breath-taken by the sourness this man exuded.

"Oh. I think you know why. Cowards think alike."

"He's not a coward."

"And why did he disappear when you became... like us?" Rachel looked away. "Because he is afraid of facing the truth: that he should have let you in an orphanage, or take your life when you were young, instead of letting you grow too old, under the belief that he was able to protect you. He doesn't want to watch you die. Unfortunately, he will."

"Connor's been missing for ten years now."

"I can wait, my dear. I have all the time in the world. Eventually he will come to see you die like a headless chicken."

She stirred, feeling another immortal. Somehow she had missed Kell's posse but this one was clear, so clear it was almost beseeching to be sensed. Kell glanced at his men in a split-second-lasting loss of control before returning to her. She noticed it and this time she smirked with an air of superiority.

"Perhaps it's Connor. Or maybe Duncan. Or maybe..." she looked to the roof, thinking not of a name, but of how she was subduing herself enough to mock this man she feared so much. "I don't know... El Zorro."

"Smile why you can, Rachel." Kell stood up, giving her another evil grin, before he moved away. She glanced at where his posse was. They were gone. She looked to see Kell's reaction, but Jacob had disappeared as well. All the emotions she had locked away inside during the talk broke free and she struggled to breathe, as her hands trembled uncontrollably. The air suddenly felt so heavy.

The immortal they had sensed was gone too. Whoever he or she was, had called in at a fine time. Kell's loss of grip granted her the opportunity to regain the control she had lost upon seeing him. She stood up and moved away, leaning on her cane. She knew Kell would not be around when she left. He would wait for Connor to appear, if he ever appeared. A gloomy feeling of dread embarked upon her as she left the cinema, foreseeing a dark horizon ahead of her and of all the people that she cared for. She had missed the end of the film, but she did not worry. Vercingetorix died in the end, as all mortals do. Of old, beheaded, poisoned... what difference did it make? He was dust, as all mortals eventually. Like she should have been, had not the immortal curse fallen upon her. She began her way home, realising immortality was a living pond. Who wants to live forever, dammit!


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

Three days later. Rachel strolled in a park near The Arc of Triumph. The place was rather void of people as it was blistering cold in the dead of night. She leant on her cane, not because she needed it, but because she wanted to give it a use. When the tingle in her head kicked in, she stopped. She looked around, only to find a couple of young lovers in their own secret world, oblivious to reality. She smiled and continued moving.

She entered a large open space, where she could see the stars. The feeling was stronger here. She grasped the grip of the cane, made it twist a little and unsheathed her blade. She examined around with her eyes and noticed a still shadow hidden in the darkness.

"I'm Rachel Ellinstein."

"I know." The male voice came loud and clear. It was someone she knew. She felt taken aback as she wondered if it could be possible that the voice was of the person she thought it was. The shadow walked into the light and his face became seen. A man with dark short hair, the one known as Oliver MacLeod, appeared before her. She gasped. He smiled and approached silently.

"Oliver..." they embraced silently. "You are...? How can it... ?"

"Where can I start?" he said, overcome with emotion.

"We have time to talk. Just hold me now."

Seconds later, their encounter was soured by a tingle coming from somewhere. Oliver opened the large coat he wore and produced a large claymore. Rachel glanced at the inscription on the hilt and wondered how he had managed to get such a sword.

She heard the cry of the grass being stepped on and turned. A tall, longhaired man stood before them. In his face, bitterness and anger could be seen being directed towards the young MacLeod. Rachel smiled at the newcomer for a second, before she realised what he was up to.

"Ten years I spent looking for you." He growled, opening the long beige mackintosh he wore and revealing an ancient Japanese katana. He moved slowly forward. Oliver pushed Rachel aside kindly and swung his sword.

"You believe I did it?"

"Of course." The newcomer slammed against the claymore, which held the blow finely. He began a series of thrusts that were blocked by the large weapon, until one pierced his defence and gashed his arm. Oliver retreated as the stranger lunged again. Oliver felt his chest slashed many times before he fell disarmed. The victor wielded up his sword to finish him when he sensed many other immortals around. He glanced at Rachel, who was still. Then his eyes fixed upon Oliver, who was scrambling up, not intending to fight anymore.

"CONNOR!" a voice bellowed, echoing harshly in the darkness.

-----

The stranger, Connor MacLeod, turned and began to move looking for the speaker. Suddenly, two people appeared from nowhere. A longhaired Jamaican man appeared before him, wielding a large wooden mace with pikes. To the Jamaican's left, a man dressed in sophisticated clothes was grinning with a scimitar in his hand. Connor grinned. The guy looked like a tangerine.

The Jamaican lunged. Connor dodged his blow and countered fiercely. His attack did not hurt the man, but sliced his mace in two. Tangerine Man attacked next, taking Connor at disadvantage. The Highlander parried his first blow. Tangerine was left in a perfect position to strike on his back and whacked forward. Connor hooked the scimitar with his and made it pass over his neck, locking it against his left shoulder and ending up face to face with his opponent.

"Bad move, MacLeod." Tangerine said.

Connor released the sword and Tangerine began to move to strike off. But the Highlander had already swung forward and sliced off the head neatly. Tangerine fell to a side, his head to the other. The Jamaican was attacking him again. Connor felt the power of the quickening soaring and seizing him. He had no chance to defend himself.

Oliver MacLeod appeared and stood between them, parrying every attack the Jamaican made, as Connor received the powerless quickening of Tangerine Man, which was blue and white like every quickening, not orange. It went off soon enough for him to stand up and help the kid. But not only Oliver seemed to be doing fine, Rachel needed his help too.

A woman with hideous stenches of makeup over her face was attacking his daughter. Whoever she was, her skill with the sword was poor. But she was young and had more stamina, unlike Rachel, who was already beginning to wear out. He rushed to help her but a tall Asian man intercepted him. Connor stood on guard.

Despite her tiredness, Rachel seemed to be managing against the leathered woman. She had learnt something over the years, but her defensive style did not look like Duncan's at all. He would have to ask later who taught her. But first was this man, who had a large Chinese spear as arm.

Connor lunged. The Asian parried his upward blow and hit him in the head with the blunt part of the spear. He retreated before going forward again. Again, the Chinese blocked but when he attacked, he missed his target, which left grounds open for Connor to deliver a swift punch in his head. The man fell but delivered a kick in Connor's side, sending him away enough time for him to stand up. The Highlander lunged forward again, but the Asian swoop with his spear and hooked his legs. Connor fell and his sword went loose. The Asian swung his weapon to finish him.

Something long flew towards the Chinese, who diverted it. A katana landed near Connor. He recognised the dragon sculpted in the hilt. He grinned as he stood up, grabbing that sword and his.

"May I join the party?" Duncan MacLeod asked, appearing from behind a tree. His hair was short now, and he was letting his coat fall on the grass.

"Why not?" Connor replied, hurling the dragon-head katana back to its owner.

Duncan stood side to side with Connor. "May I?"

"Be my guest." Connor said, moving aside to let Duncan attack this tough Chinese guy. Rachel needed his help now. He ran towards her but another shadow stopped him, opposing a large claymore. Connor recognised the weapon and glanced at the owner. The bald man grinned with superiority. Connor's breathing increased. A flash of a woman dying at the stake, engulfed in fire, disturbed him.

"Jacob Kell."

"Hello, Connor." Kell slashed at him, wounding him. Connor retreated. "Good to see you."

"What is it all about, Jacob?" Connor asked, painstakingly feeling his wound heal.

"A four-hundred-year crusade in the quest of justice. Restoring the equilibrium after the murder of a man of God!"

"You're a fanatic. So was Rainey."

Kell slammed again. Connor blocked his blow and slice at Jacob's arm, cutting it shallowly. Kell seemed unaffected by it and delivered a strong blow on Connor's side. MacLeod stood up and took distance. He hated to admit it, but Kell was good, too good.

-----

Duncan MacLeod had been exchanging blows with this Asian man until he sent his sword fiercely towards his neck and the Asian tried to parry his attack, ending up with a broken weapon. The Asian dropped his useless spear.

"Go ahead, Highlander. Attack me."

"It wouldn't be honourable to do so." Duncan dropped his weapon. "Now we're even. Do you have a name?"

The man looked at Duncan as if surprised by his attitude. "Jin Ke."

"The same that served Emperor Chin?"

"Indeed."

Jin Ke rushed forward and delivered a kick on Duncan's side. The Highlander blocked and swept Ke's leg. The Chinese fell but swiftly stood up. Duncan parried his next punch with his hand but could do nothing against a gravity-defying jump in the air with which Ke connected two kicks in Duncan's side. The Highlander felt the ribs crack as he landed harshly on the floor.

-----

Connor delivered another blow on Kell, succeeding in disarming him. Kell stood motionlessly.

"Come on, Connor. Take your shot."

Connor lowered his weapon.

"You're sick."

Kell clouted forward before Connor could react. Connor felt his punch and something sharp piercing his chest.

"Am I?" Kell asked viciously, grabbing his sword as Connor fell.

They heard the air being cut by something as a quickening erupted somewhere. Kell opened his hand. A bluish glow came out of it, and the claymore Oliver MacLeod was using froze in the air. Connor recognised the weapon as the one he had owned in the Highlands of Scotland, the one he had been carrying when he was banished from Glen Finnan in 1536, and the one he had marked his bonny Heather's grave with upon her death. How Oliver had it remained a mystery. As how Kell did to freeze the weapon in the air without touching it.

Kell frowned and the sword fell. Nearby, Oliver MacLeod had just finished receiving the Jamaican's quickening and was staring baffled at Kell, to whom he had been pelted the sword at right in order to save Connor's head, right after the Jamaican's head fell.

"What the...?" he mumbled.

"Enough!" Kell called out fiercely.

Jin Ke did not seem to pay heed to Kell's call. He carried on fighting Duncan, who was keeping up with his expertise in martial arts. Only after Kell bellowed again did he stop. He made a nod with his head at the Highlander, who replied in like.

"Good fight." Duncan said.

"Faith!" Kell called to the woman who was fighting Rachel. This woman had two deep gashes in the stomach, but had inflicted major pain in Rachel by slashing her arm. "Faith!" Another blow by her followed, which Rachel blocked, but she kicked her and Rachel fell hard on the floor, as her sword slipped from her grip.

"Another time, haggard lady!" Faith grunted harshly. She sheathed her sword under her coat, and moved towards Kell.

"Kate?" Duncan MacLeod's voice pierced the dominion of silence.

"The name's Faith now, Duncan. Remember that when you're dead." She spat up.

Kell, Jin Ke and Faith disappeared. Connor rose and picked up the claymore, staring at it like at an old friend. Then he picked up his katana. Duncan joined him. They grinned at each other. Nearby, Oliver was helping Rachel up. She was shivering. The air seemed so dense suddenly. She had been so close to death she found it hard to walk. Oliver passed his arm under hers and she leant on him to walk. Connor gazed at the scene for a second, before he moved to help Rachel too.


	9. Chapter 9

**IX**

"Mind explaining, Connor?"

Around a table in a bar, Rachel and the three MacLeods were having coffee. Oliver felt out of place, being the only one not befriended with the other three. Rachel gazed lovingly at the three others. Connor was silent, so was Duncan, who had asked the question rather harshly.

"That was Jacob Kell."

"Jacob Kell?" Duncan spoke as he thought. "Wasn't that the... priest who sold his soul to the devil to resurrect his murdered father after the attack that nearly destroyed Glen Finnan?"

"Exactly." Connor sighed.

"So he is one of us. And why is he after you?"

"The legend doesn't mention who made the attack, does it?"

"There are versions, though." Oliver broke in. "Some say it was an enemy clan, others that it was an army of hounds from Hell."

"It was one-man army..." Connor whispered, in a tone that made further words futile.

"Your mother." Rachel spoke with kind perturbation. "After they... you took your vengeance on them."

"I was angry, mad. All I wanted was to take my mother away from those... bastards!"

"Funny you never mentioned it." Duncan blurted bitterly.

"Chill out, people." Oliver spoke. "Arguing about who is right, and who is wrong won't get us anywhere. Kell is strong, too strong for any of us."

"What are you talking about?" Connor queried.

"You're a strong warrior, Connor. You stood up to Kell, but he nearly got you. He is beyond your league. Beyond everybody's league."

"How come?" The sceptical question marked Connor's resent for nearly having lost.

"He's broken the Rules."

The sentence fell on them like a guillotine on a neck. Duncan took a sip of coffee. Connor's hand began to twitch. Rachel was impassive.

"It can't be." The elder of all them finally spoke.

"He doesn't care about the Rules, or the Game. He wants your head." Rachel spat up.

"Explain yourself."

"I saw Kell the day she... died." Oliver sighed. "He was getting away, just as you moved towards the house. I travelled to Europe and began to talk with some immortals I know. Eventually I learnt who he was. Someone like him is dangerous. I went to where it all began."

"Glen Finnan."

"There I found the answers I was looking for... and the way to stop him."

"How come?"

"It's a long story."

"And now you carry my sword?" Connor asked, still dubious.

"I carry your claymore because you will need it. You need to increase your power. Otherwise you won't be able to defeat Kell."

"You expect me to believe a damn word you say?"

"I could have let you die, Connor." Oliver took a sip. "But I didn't."

"And why?"

"Her." Rachel blushed lightly. She looked away as she took another sip of coffee. "I don't think there's ever anyone I hated more than I hated you for pushing me away from her, but right now, you and him are the best shot we have."

"Oh, that's really..."

"Cut it, Connor!" Duncan snapped. "You simply vanished for ten years and now you come feeling omnipotent. Where the hell have you been and why you look like hell?"

Connor stared at his clansman, distress exuding through every pore of his skin. "I was hunting him. I thought he was responsible for your death."

"I could've done it forty years ago, couldn't I?" Oliver remarked, definitely winning the quarrel. Connor kept silent. "You indeed look like hell!" Oliver mocked.

"I've been ageing since I defeated the Kurgan... for some reason... when and if you ever defeat such a warrior, it might happen to you."

"All right, you bunch of roosters!" Rachel cut them off. "Unless you're planning on talking Kell till he dies of boredom, I don't think this is getting us anywhere." They stared at her. "I would personally like to get more power. That... post-nuclear Barbie almost killed me. And you two will need it if you are to fight with Kell."

"Kate..." Duncan sighed.

"You know her?"

"She was... my wife. I... killed her on our wedding night." Rachel eyed him appalled. She drank her entire coffee as she blinked repetitively. Disgust was growing in her expression and Duncan saw it. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You weren't, Duncan." Connor broke in. "But we've discussed that already, so let's get over it. She's on Kell's side, and I don't care a bit about her."

This time it was the younger Highlander who fell into a void of silence. He simply finished his coffee and stared at the table. Connor plunged his drink down his throat as Oliver was asking for something to eat to the waitress.

"So what's to be done?" Rachel asked.

"We have to travel." Oliver replied softly.

"Where?"

Connor spoke with a grin before Oliver could reply. "Where it all began."


	10. Chapter 10

**X**

The plane to Glasgow was not much crowded. Duncan and Connor shared seats, while Oliver and Rachel were a few rows ahead of them. The two Highlanders were silent, Connor staring at the blue sky while Duncan read a book.

"I'm sorry, Duncan."

The younger lifted his eyes to the elder one. "Why?"

"I... walked away. Left you with the burden to train Rachel."

"She needed you, Connor. I did what I could, but I had other issues to attend. I left her on her own."

"I understand, Duncan. So how did she do?"

"Fine. She got the cane you gave to Sean from him..."

"Sean died. I'd love to put my hands on the crook who did it."

"Take your shot." Duncan said sadly.

"What!"

"I was under a dark quickening. Too many heads made me evil. Methos saved me."

"Methos? Please tell me he never met Rachel."

"He did." Duncan sighed. "It was him who really trained her."

"That explains that defensive Please-Don't-Hurt-Me-Methos-patented stance Rach had."

Duncan laughed. "It does." Both broke into laughter.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. We're near Glasgow." The voice of the stewardess startled them, cutting the fun.

"Back to where it all began." Connor said. "And where it all might end."

Duncan heard the gloomy words of his friend and remained silent. The sky was getting dark, threatening to rain. Bad omen, he thought.

-----

They arrived in the morning in Glasgow, from where they took a bus to Aberdeen. They booked in a hotel and each of them got a room. Oliver was barely wearing a pair of jeans as he practised some complicated movements when his mind sensed the buzz. Sweat was tripping down his built muscles. He opened the door.

Rachel startled a bit upon the look of his bare chest and blushed a bit more. He moved aside and let her in, perceiving a delicious smell coming from her wet hair. She had just taken a bath and was wearing a loose long night-dress. He observed, not for the first time, that she looked in her early forties, and not in the late fifties she was upon her mortal death.

"Can't sleep?" he asked casually.

"No, I was just... thinking."

"About?" he closed the door and approached, noticing how her eyes fell from his face to his worked-out body.

"What happened... between us."

He scratched his head. "I never told you how I became immortal."

"Now I wonder if it was just to get my head in the right time." She said despondently.

"No." He moved forward and took her hands. "It was a month before the night Connor caught us..." he grinned with some embarrassment. "You know where, right?" she smiled. "Well, I was returning home and crossing the street, some idiot ran me over. Of course, I couldn't believe it when I was still alive."

"And how did you... learned?"

"I came across this fellow a couple of days later. He gave me the usual lecture about being immortal: secrecy, don't stick around for too long, only die by decapitation, there can be only one, bla bla bla." Oliver grinned. "He told me the headache would announce someone was around and that I should avoid that someone."

"Would you have... fought Connor if he...?"

"If we had, I would've been in a body bag. The fellow disappeared and up until now, I never saw him again. After Connor caught us, I returned once. He told me that if he ever saw me again, my head would fall. I... chickened out. I moved to the farmhouse my parents owned and I came across this huge, really huge guy who worked there. He was kind of evil, but he trained me. He seemed mesmerised by the animals. One day, once I knew everything, he took off without bidding farewell."

"What do you think we could have become if you had...?"

"Don't ever ask me that, Rachel. Please. It hurts so much what we lost."

She grinned sadly. "Oliver."

"Yes?"

"Do you still love me?"

"As the first day." He said tenderly.

He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. A tear trickled down from her right eye, and another one from the left one followed.

"Could you please..." He stared at her. Her eyes were moist, her face seemed void of all the wrinkles age had brought her. She was crying as she talked. He bent and kissed her again. Only this time it was longer and more passionate. His right hand ran through her hair and the left one stroked her back. He felt pushed against the bed and he fell there with her over him. He felt her touch over his skin, which was on fire, going down to his trousers. He gasped, feeling her cold fingers on his belly.

"I can't do this!" he moved away.

Rachel stared at him with some sort of hurt in her eyes.

"It's because I'm old. So it was all about sex." She grunted harshly.

"No... it's not... " he stammered, unable to express what he felt in the right words.

"You said you loved me. You've always made me feel so beautiful... all my doubts and confusions are left in another world when I'm with you..." she stopped to let the tears flow freely.

"Rach..." he sighed. He took her in his arms and kissed her again, leaning over her, surrendering to her desire. He slipped his hand under his dress and removed her underwear. He fondled her face kindly. He unbuttoned his trousers and lowered them. She let out a gasp as he entered her. He went slowly, gently. Rachel's eyes glistened with fulfilment. Their breathing was one, so was their heartbeat, drumming in unison. She caressed his back softly and her touch ignited him. Their bodies moved in a slow-motion dance, careless of reality, careless of the world, careless of everything. He moaned in release, and seconds later, so did she. He lay on her breasts and felt her touch on her neck.

Right then they sensed someone coming. The knock on the door followed.

"Oliver, are you there?"

"Yes, Connor." He said, trying hard to sound as calm as possible, despite the closeness of Rachel's body ignited his excitement and fuelled him to go for more, this time not so kindly.

"Is Rachel there?"

"No." he lied.

"NO clue where she might be?"

"No."

A damnation was heard and Connor went away.

"He'll kill me if he knows." He commented to Rachel, who giggled.

"Connor's always been overprotective." She kissed his head. "What's in Scotland that's so important?"

Oliver moved away from her. "Something that can make you very powerful."

"Like a quickening?" she asked as he felt her hand on his thigh.

"In a way." He fixed a drink, trying hard to conceal his reaction to her touch.

"And when we will go there?"

"Tomorrow." He said with a strange detachment.


	11. Chapter 11

**XI**

Two days later, the group got off a rented van and smelt the air of the Highlands of Scotland. The green hills mesmerised Rachel. In all her years with Connor, he had never brought her there. She noticed Duncan was moving away towards a lodge nearby, and looked for answers in her friends. Connor did not know what it was about. Oliver seemed to, but was silent. Duncan was returning with a dark-haired beautiful woman, who was laughing at some comment the younger Highlander had made.

"Rachael MacLeod, these are my friends Connor MacLeod and Rachel Ellinstein." Rachael shook hands kindly with both of them. "And this is Oliver MacLeod." Rachael smiled and embraced the younger MacLeod.

"Long time, Oliver." She said giggling.

"A couple of years only."

"You know each other?" Duncan asked.

"Sort of." Rachael looked away. "He came looking for something, and found a lot more." She smiled in a way that unnerved Rachel. She understood the subtlety of the words. The Scot woman had bedded him. Jealousy was quickened inside of her.

"We are looking for something too."

"That is?" Connor opened his coat and produced the ancient claymore from the left part of his coat. The katana was motionlessly clung to the other part. Rachael eyed the sword with amazement, guessing instantly. "The sword of Duncan MacLeod."

She returned inside and a minute later, she was upon them again. Duncan was holding a magnificent claymore.

"Looks well, Duncan." Rachel commented.

"It does. Now there's something else to find." Oliver added.

Connor turned and began to look at the horizon. Duncan joined him. Both in silence as the younger ones regarded them with concern. These two had been pushed away from this land. Returning was always hard, as painful memories surfaced.

"You know something?" Rachael asked trying to be nice. "These two seem to like to have the old swords of their long-time ascendants... who are called like them. Weird, eh?"

-----

Walking across the green, Connor joined Rachel, who was by Oliver's arm. The boy understood that he was out of place and released her, moving behind to exchange words with Duncan. She smiled at Connor as she grabbed his arm.

"He's a fine boy. I... I think I was too..."

"Overprotective, Connor?"

"Yes... I should have let him..."

"Don't start torturing yourself. Done is done. Thinking about it won't lead us anywhere."

"So you met Methos?" he changed the topic.

"Methos? What is that name?"

"Benjamin Adams?"

"No... who is that?" Rachel thought about it. "Oh... you mean Adam Pierson."

"That one."

Rachel's face frowned with disgust. "Yes. I did not like him much. He struck me as a person always looking for an advantage."

"It's a way of surviving. He's been around for a while. He taught you."

"Yes..." Rachel stopped. "And I want to show you."

She unsheathed the blade from the cane and stood on guard. Connor stood silent for a second and produced his katana. The Highlander struck forward. Rachel blocked as she stepped back. Connor retrieved his sword and Rachel slammed. Connor parried the attack easily and sliced her arm. Rachel gasped as she delivered a blow at Connor's side. He dodged and hooked her sword in his and sent it away. He smiled at his adoptive daughter.

"Nice." Connor said... nicely.

"I don't stand a chance against you, Duncan... or Kell." She said sombrely.

"But you're young. You must train hard... how many heads have you...?"

"Only one." She said embarrassedly, as if beheading someone was an object of pride rather than an abomination.

"You have time..." he blurted before silencing.

"What was that?" Duncan asked joining them.

"A little exhibition." Connor replied gaily.

"Let's move on. We should be getting there soon." Oliver broke in, speaking bitterly.

He moved past them, walking heavily towards a row of trees. Connor regarded him before glancing at Duncan and posing his eyes on Rachel. Both shared the perplexity he felt.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know." She replied worriedly.

"Well, the sooner we get there, wherever it is, the sooner we'll know." Duncan spoke as he followed Oliver.

-----

Ten minutes later, they had got past a row of trees and were by a pond. Oliver was looking around for something, while Duncan stared with recognition at the pond. They all could feel someone around, but they did not know where that immortal could be. They had weapons in hand: Rachel, her unfolded cane; Duncan and Connor, their respective katanas and claymores. All but Oliver. He was unarmed, as if he knew who was there.

From the pond, something erupted and darted towards Rachel. She instinctively put up her blade and blocked an upward blow aimed at her head. Her eyes met with the ones of a beautiful dark-haired woman who was almost naked. Her breasts were behind her long hair that fell over her chest, and only a small cloth covered between the legs. Her eyes gave away nothing. Rachel pushed forward and that woman did likewise.

"Cassandra!"

The woman stopped upon hearing Oliver call. She ceased the struggle and lowered her weapon. Caring nothing about her nudity, she stared at the newcomers, fixing her eyes on Duncan, who smiled. Oliver approached, his face slightly blushed. Connor was grinning at the magnificent view before him.

"What are you doing here?"

"You know who we are?" Connor asked.

"Oliver and Duncan MacLeod. I know both of them. You must be Connor MacLeod. A bloody clan MacLeod reunion... only Quentin and Colin are missing."

"They're fishes always hard to find." The reply was charged with a trickle of amusement.

"And she is..." Cassandra studied Rachel, then shot a glance at Oliver. "Rachel Ellinstein."

"Good guess, sorceress. Your powers must have something of truth." Connor spat up sceptically.

"Oliver talked a lot about her. I know her as if I had actually met her a long time ago."

"Cassandra..." Oliver broke the chat. "This is important."

The tone of urgency the youngest MacLeod used puzzled Cassandra, who regarded the American with intrigue.

"What is it?"

"The Gate of Power."

"You can't go there."

"I have to. We all have to."

"Oliver..." she said with a little pain. Oliver and Cassandra stared at each other. A secret silent conversation seemed to go on between them in a split second. "Aye. I will lead you."


	12. Chapter 12

**XII**

Cassandra led the group through a maze of trees and bushes until they reached the entrance of a cave. She magically lit a torch and led the way inside. Oliver followed her. Rachel, Duncan and Connor did the same, after a moment of hesitation. They moved through endless routes. Rachel wondered if the woman knew where they were going. She glanced at Connor, who bore a distrust look in his eyes. Then at Duncan, who seemed uncertain. Finally at Oliver, who was calm and silent. A glimpse of light drew her attention. Ahead, a large opening could be seen, and toward there they went.

The place seemed like an enormous dining room, built in stone. There were torches and candles lit up all around. On the further side, there was a gigantic empty circle with a frame made of something that seemed like metal but could perfectly well pass as wood. Rachel guessed that was the gate Oliver talked about. Connor examined it, while Duncan looked around.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"This is the Gate of Power, Rachel." Oliver replied.

"Where does it come from?"

"We all need to go through it, if we are to enhance our skills."

"That doesn't reply the question."

Connor and Duncan stood at the gate. Rachel stood behind them. Oliver went behind her.

"Connor, hand Oliver the claymore." Cassandra ordered. Reluctantly, Connor obeyed. "Now, one by one, step in."

Duncan moved forward. "Let me go first." He walked through it. A blue glinting energy resembling a curtain dazzled him, seizing his arm. It seemed like water. The Highlander stared baffled. He glanced back and found Cassandra motioning him forward. He nodded and continued his way. Duncan MacLeod disappeared into the Gate of Power.

"Wait, Cassandra." Rachel turned.

"What is it, Rachel?"

"I want to know what this is, and where it comes from."

She smiled. Behind Rachel, Connor was stepping in, being devoured by the energy.

"This is the Gate of Power. Its origins are unknown. Quentin MacLeod, the first Highlander found it in the days before memory. The Gate is uniquely peculiar. Part of the quickening of every immortal that has died flies back here. It can increase your power..."

"That helps." Rachel stood by the strange energy, seeing it flow without a fixed pattern within the gate. Oliver went behind her.

"But..." Rachel turned at Cassandra's words. "No immortal that has been there can enter twice."

"What!" Rachel asked.

Before she could react, the American MacLeod pushed Rachel to the energy, and she was swallowed by it. He turned to Cassandra, reproach in his eyes. Again, a silent talk seemed to develop.

"I hope it works." He mumbled.

"So do I. Goodbye, Oliver MacLeod."

He stepped inside until only his face remained out of the energy.

"Goodbye, Cassandra."

-----

The darkest dark of darkness was all they could see. Noises humming in and out, to and fro, bewildered them. A shriek, a gasp. Then wild, vicious laughter. A cry, a pleasant moan, a sweet voice whispering "I love you". Then a mild, lovely giggle, before a void of silence ruled.

"What is this?" Connor asked. "Duncan, Rachel... are you here?"

"I am here, Connor." Duncan replied.

"So am I." Rachel asked. Her voice seemed pinched by distress.

"Where's Oliver?"

"He should be here, Connor." Duncan replied.

A surge of power blasted inside their heads. Many, too many immortals all around, nowhere to be seen, everywhere to be felt.

"Follow me." Connor commanded, as he began to walk in an uncertain way. He put his sword down, hoping to touch the floor so that the blade made a dim sound that would indicate the way to his friends. But the floor was not there. "This way." He called, repeating it every five steps to lead his friends.

"We've never been in such a weird situation, right?" Duncan queried.

"Not really." Connor said.

A flash of blue light fell from above ahead of them, showing them the way. Rachel shrieked. Where the light fell, some shapes could be made out.

"I don't like this one bit." Duncan spat up.

"Neither do I. But do you know a better place to go?"

They began their way there. The image seemed clear. As they drew near, they could see that there was a human shape glowing intermittently, surrounded by a group of at least six people. Their feet began to slip. The shapeless ground seemed to vanish. They began to walk faster until they reached some sort of dry land.

Then the light broke. An appalling view lay before them. Remnants of buildings stood, eroded by the wind, the light, or whatever it could be. Nothing at all for what Connor could guess. He did not feel cold, heat or wind. The sky was orange, covered by red clouds. A sickening smell pervaded Rachel's nostrils, and she covered her mouth to keep her stomach's reaction inside of her mouth. Duncan and Connor stared at the sight of broken weapons and rusty armours as they recognised with dread the stench of death. Some metres ahead, the people were talking among themselves, still around the fallen. Connor gave a step forward and crushed something. He looked down to see as Rachel let out a horrid cry. It was a human skull.

Murmurs were heard from the people there. Connor raised his eyes to regard them and froze. He felt a cold breeze chilling his back, though he wondered if it was not just his imagination. He knew most of those people. They should not be there. They were all dead.

"Greetings, Highlander." A Spanish accent tingled in Connor's head.


	13. Chapter 13

**XIII**

Connor stared in amazement at his mentor and friend Don Juan Sanchez Villalobos Ramirez. The other people left the fallen person and joined the Spaniard. To his right, a tough face that seemed to be in undisturbed peace regarded them silently, as its owner wore a priest robe.

"Darius..." Duncan sighed.

"You look well, MacLeod." Ramirez walked towards his former student.

"So do you." Connor moved forward too. The Spaniard suddenly drew his sword (the same katana Connor had) and lunged, but the Highlander avoided his blow and his blade touched softly Ramirez' neck before being retreated. "Never overextend your thrust." he mocked, being grinned back.

"Who are these?" Rachel asked.

Ramirez stood up and approached Rachel. He held her hand and kissed it chivalrously. "I am Juan Sanchez Villalobos Ramirez, chief metallurgist of your majesty Charles V of Spain. At your service, madam."

"I am..."

"She's my adoptive daughter, you Spanish peacock. So behave."

"Oh!" Ramirez feigned repentance. "I recognised that particular spark of you."

"And they are...?"

Her eyes regarded the other nine characters that were there. There was this man that looked so peaceful yet violent, the one Duncan had called Darius. Then there was a man who nodded knowingly at Rachel. She smiled back. Sean Burns was there too. There was a blond man who was neatly dressed, there was a well-built man that seemed keen on weight-lifting, there was an Asian man wearing white clothes who bowed respectfully. And there was also a bald hulkish figure that glared at them. Rachel felt a chill on her back, recognising the face from a newspaper picture that was fifteen years old. She caught a glimpse of Connor acknowledging this stranger with a grinning nod.

"Rachel, Duncan... these are Iman Fasil..." the blond one made a reverence "... Oshta Vasilek..." the well built man raised a hand "... Nakano..." the Asian bowed again "...and the Kurgan." A vicious smile returned the salute.

"Connor... is it safe with him...?" Duncan queried with concern.

"I am out of the Game, excuse of a warrior!" Kurgan bellowed. "I would be able to crush your skull with only a flick of my wrist, but..." he silenced and looked away.

"The Rules." Nakano spoke. "That would break the Rules."

"The motives of your presence are known to us." Vasilek carried on.

"The balance of the Game must be restored." Sean added.

"But the re-entry of this immortal has jailed you all." Darius spoke softly, pointing at the fallen body. This person was beginning to stand up.

"And now he must pay!" Fasil said curtly.

"Easy!" Ramirez calmed him. "Let's welcome our guests first." No sooner did he speak than the whole landscape seemed to blur and vanish.

-----

Next thing the newcomers knew was that they were sitting at a table full of different kinds of foods. Meat, salad, pasta, wine; a feast to please a hundred eaters. The walls around them were golden, and they shone flawlessly. The seats and the table were made of a perfectly cut wood.

"Ramirez..." Duncan asked, having been the first one to react. "What is this place?"

"A part of all the quickenings of the dead immortals come here. A web of power all around. Those who come here are granted a minute part of it, but only once."

"And why can't we leave?"

"Because, Highlander..." this time Nakano spoke "... your friend knew of the consequences of his returning here. Now you must pay as he shall."

"Will you kill him?"

"Yes!" Kurgan yelled.

"And who will get the quickening?" Connor queried.

"No one. We are our quickenings only. We have no bodies to welcome it. The power joins the power existing herein." Fasil said curtly.

"What about Kell?"

"His violation of the Rules shall be punished eventually. If not by you, by some another." Sean spoke with his usual calm.

"So you will simply lock us here for eternity?"

"Indeed, Highlander." Ramirez spoke charmingly.

"But that would interfere with the Game." Duncan broke in, standing up.

"Your being here constitutes an attempt to gain an advantage... in a way it's a breaking of the Rules too, young Highlander."

"But Ramirez..." Connor stood up too, staring in the eyes of the Spanish peacock. "The only way to restore the balance is to break the Rules to remove from the Game the one that has unbalanced it by..."

"Breaking the Rules!" Kurgan shrieked, nodding in complicity at Connor. The Highlander found it strange that his thoughts were akin to the ones of the mythical savage. "MacLeod's right."

"Don't argue, Kurgan. This is not something we can decide on. And you know it." Ramirez chilled him out and the Russian looked away as he devoured a chicken leg.

"Fine then." Rachel suddenly said. "I want to see Oliver."

"What for, daughter of the Highlander?" Nakano inquired.

There was no reply.

"What for, young lady?" Ramirez tried, getting the same result as the Asian sorcerer.

"Rachel..." Sean tried. "Why you want to see him?"

Silence. Fasil was about to speak when Vasilek motioned at him to silence.

"She won't speak. Lead her to him."


	14. Chapter 14

**XIV**

Just as Vasilek spoke, Rachel found herself before Oliver MacLeod, amid the same blackness that had welcomed them. The kid was lying naked on the floor, and his skin was badly bruised and burnt. His hair had fallen and his eyes were threatening to bulge out of their sockets. He regarded Rachel with anxiety. She noticed that the American's skin was glowing in a healthy blue that contrasted his appearance.

"Oliver..." she sounded worried. "Are you OK?"

"My skin is on fire, my blood is boiling. I should have thought about it, dammit!" he cried.

"They won't let us leave." She said with resignation.

"I didn't imagine it like this. I thought you would just receive the power and leave."

"You knew you couldn't come here!" Rachel's tears broke free.

"I... I... I knew it!" He shrieked.

"But why did you come here?"

"Because I sensed that it would not be enough. Jacob Kell is... astoundingly powerful. No single man can defeat him. He has powers that go beyond your imagination."

"What were you expecting to accomplish?"

"I... never mind." He looked away, his face giving away how pain devoured him.

"You shouldn't have gone too far."

"I love you, Rachel. You know that?"

"Of course." She softened. "I love you too."

"And I would do anything to save you."

"Oliver..." she stammered.

"I lost you once, Rachel. If I am to lose you again..." he spoke with a renewed energy that stemmed from his heart. "... It's not going to be to that lunatic! I want to see you alive... even if I die to save you!"

Her eyes fell to the floor. His foot nails were missing and his own fresh blood engulfed his feet. She made out bubbles in it. The blood was boiling really. "This is a gigantic web of quickenings that we are trapped in."

"Dormant quickenings... without a body to welcome them."

"That doesn't explain why you..." she silenced. A cold shiver possessed her. She moved away from him, staring at her friend, her lost love now found again, with disbelief. Her hand trembled as she gripped the cane and unfolded the blade, her face aghast with horror.

"I wish there had been another way... " Oliver said apologetically.

"I wish you'd told me." Rachel whispered before slicing off the American MacLeod's head.

-----

Connor and Duncan were anxiously waiting for Rachel to return when they felt an astoundingly deafening sound. Then the food vanished, the table vanished, and one by one, so did the dead immortals. Nakano and Burns disappeared silently, Ramirez gave a grin at Connor before fading while Vasilek and Fasil seemed disappointed. The Kurgan guffawed evilly, giving Duncan the creeps, before leaving the Highlanders by themselves.

Darkness embraced them again. They made out a shape drawing near them. Rachel. There was something else: a headless corpse. They sadly recognise what had been Oliver MacLeod. The body lay before them, and Duncan felt dragged to Connor's left, as Rachel was forced by something to the elder Highlander's right. They formed a triangle with the corpse in the centre. Then the quickening erupted, possessing Rachel. Blue and white lightning. She shrieked as she received the power.

Then the sky above them seemed to crack. Bolts of lightning came out of everywhere. A green and white light shone down on the three of them. Energy shook them. A dark green flash of light pierced through Connor, then it went to Duncan and it landed on Rachel. Then a blinding blue stream of light darted out like a laser at Duncan, bounced towards Rachel and landed on Connor. Silence was broken violently by their treble shriek of pleasant pain.

Suddenly, it all went off, and they felt an invisible force dragging them away...

-----

The Gate spit them out, literally. They were ejected fiercely out through the energy and landed on the floor, away from the Gate. Duncan stood up first, then Connor. Rachel was still on the floor, not unconscious but devastated, weeping without consolation.

"What happened, Rach?" Connor asked softly, crawling by his adoptive daughter.

"He had it planned all the time... lose his head to unleash more power than the one they would have given us." She mumbled, as tears fell like a waterfall.

Connor embraced her silently.

"It was his choice, Rachel." Duncan spoke with emotion.

"He did it... to save me. I'm not worth it!"

"Yes you are, Rach." Connor comforted her. "You are worth more than any of us."

"No I'm not, Connor." She said, now crying like a baby.

"Yes you are."

Duncan looked around. The place looked different. The torches and candles that had been lit up now were put off. There were some rocks on the floor that were not there. Then he felt someone around. Connor and Rachel stood up. The Highlanders drew the katanas out. Rachel unsheathed her cane. Duncan noticed two fallen corpses near the Gate, and felt a disturbing dread all over him.

"CONNOR!"

The voice echoed loudly in the walls of the cave. From the entrance of the cave, Jacob Kell appeared. To his left, Faith was smiling viciously. To her right, Jin Ke was standing still, not looking directly at his enemies. Duncan felt sick when recognising the head that Jacob was holding in his right hand. The face of the mystical beauty Cassandra was frozen in a smirk of horrid surprise, with some drops of blood on her face. At Kell's right foot, the bald head of an African man laid silently.

"The time has come for you all to pay." Kell spoke. He caressed Faith's face. "Then we will have a black celebration." She reacted with pleasure, as she unsheathed a large blade.

"How did you find us?" Connor demanded.

Kell produced a small sphere made of glass. He smirked and in the sphere, Connor's puzzled face appeared.

"I've always known where you've been..." he smiled, his teeth glinting evil. "And I'll still know, even when you dwell in hell."

"Heh-heh." Connor smirked, standing in a fighting stance. "I don't think it'll be for much longer." He lunged forward. Kell remained frozen. Connor chopped at him and neatly sliced him in two. To his surprise, Kell did not die. Each side evolved into a Jacob Kell. Two identical faces smirked evilly. Both Kells punched Connor, who flew back and landed heavily next to Duncan.

"That was not very smart, Connor. But soon, neither of you will have to worry." The two Kells grunted, before lunging forward.


	15. Chapter 15

**XV**

Connor engaged in battle with the two Kells. Connor blocked the blow of one of the Kells but a neat slice by the other gashed his side. He fell wounded as the first Kell hit his katana hard enough to make it escape his grip. Connor was unarmed and at the mercy of the two Jacob Kell. Both swords kissed his neck without cutting it.

"You will watch them die, and only then you will join them." Jacob said viciously.

-----

Duncan and Jin Ke were still, holding the eyes of the other, studying carefully their opponents' reaction. Jin Ke extended his spear but did not move. Duncan stretched his right leg and moved his sword over his head, waiting for a movement, something that triggered the beginning of the fight.

-----

Faith slammed against Rachel. The Dutch contained well her opponent, whose blows were fierce yet awkward. Duncan's former wife was attacking in a way Rachel found now rather boring and easy to avoid. Faith chopped at her. Rachel opposed her blade and hit Faith in the stomach with the sheath of her cane sword. Faith fell with traces of blood in her mouth. Rachel swung her sword at her neck and stopped when it was at a hair's distance.

"Do it..." Faith urged.

"I won't..." Rachel stammered.

"DO IT!" Faith cried, a smile of deliverance in her face.

"I... can't!"

"Then I'll do it!"

Faith surged, her sword moving at her opponent. By reflex, Rachel slammed forward and felt the blade tear apart the flesh of Faith's neck. The body fell. Rachel saw the face hit the floor with a strange expression of bliss. Then the quickening erupted and tears blinded the Dutch.

Duncan had killed Kate. She had had to survive as she could, selling her body to scoundrels of the worst kind, never believing she would have a chance of vanquishing her lost life. Kell found her and converted her to her league of revenge. In stripping Connor of all he cared, Duncan would come across them eventually. She had Faith in him, and became an asset to Jacob, who used her to lure other immortals into his trap. But she also became a disposable item, a sexual entertainment. Rachel was all she wanted to be: an old woman with little chances of survival, and a death soon to come. Death had finally embraced her, and she was glad for it.

It went off in a sudden and she stood up, feeling a vigorous desire to attack Kell.

-----

Connor smirked at the Kells when Faith died. One of the Jacobs returned the grin, while the other was intent on the other fighters.

"Jin Ke!" The Asian's eyes were still fixed upon Duncan. Ke's eyes regarded both Kells. "Attack!"

"Fine." The Asian moved forward but he went towards his commander, rather than towards the Highlander. One of the Kells blocked his blow, while the other directed a deadly slice at his throat. But the slice was blocked. Duncan MacLeod was interfering in the battle.

"Two against two makes it even." Duncan said as he kicked his Kell away.

Connor stood up. "And why not three against two?" Then the Jacob Kell Duncan was fighting had to face both MacLeods. Duncan sliced forward but Kell blocked, and as Connor was thrusting, he grabbed the hand of the elder Highlander and shoved him away. Then he connected a kick in Duncan's groin and had him at his mercy.

"One to go, Connor!"

Kell viciously aimed at Duncan's neck but a dazzling glow stopped him. The Gate was shining intermittently. Suddenly, something large and thin that glowed fluorescently erupted from it and stabbed this Kell in the chest. The bald man retreated as Duncan stood up and joined Connor. Kell removed the thing and tossed it at the floor. The elder Highlander grabbed it and then it stopped shining. It was his old claymore.

-----

Jin Ke sent a flurry of fast blows at the other Kell, all of which were parried efficiently. Suddenly, a third person appeared delivering a neat blow on Kell's side. Jacob retreated and Jin Ke regarded his helper. It was Rachel.

"This is against the Rules, Rachel." Kell threatened. "You know what will happen if you break the Rules."

"You know it too. Once the Rules are broken... the punishment is not by the Rules." Rachel said as Jin Ke flew towards Kell. "And retribution has come."

Kell blocked another of Jin Ke's blow and kick him in the crotch. Ke staggered back but too slowly to avoid Kell taking his head. Jacob fell on his knees to receive the quickening, smiling. But only for a second. Rachel was striking towards him, her blade swinging dangerously towards his neck, without his being able to do anything. He smirked maliciously as his head was torn apart and strangely vanished in the air in its course to the ground...

-----

Duncan moved forward, exchanging powerful blows with Kell. Jacob blocked a downward attack and punched Duncan. Connor took the place of his clansman, striking fiercely with his claymore. Kell avoided him well, but Duncan was rejoining the battle. Kell deflected Connor's blade and avoided a thrust by the other. He took distance and his sword suddenly became double. He glared with superiority at the MacLeods. Then his body glowed. Nearby, Rachel was receiving a quickening.

"Ah..." Kell looked rejoiced. "It is done. Bring it on, brothers."

Duncan produced his claymore too, and both MacLeods wielded in their right hand their broadswords and in the left their katanas. Kell rushed forward with a speed that stunned them. Connor barely blocked, while Duncan managed to connect a thrust in Kell's arm as he defended himself. The elder Highlander contained his opponent as Duncan made a somersault over Kell. The younger one sent his sword against Kell, but Jacob blocked masterly with the sword in his left hand. Each of the MacLeod had their katanas hooked in Kell's broadswords. Any attack with the claymores was impossible, since their own swords shielded Jacob. Suddenly, Kell clenched his fist and a hidden blade erupted from his wrist, making a cut in Duncan's chin. The younger Highlander loosened his sword, which enabled Kell to deliver an astoundingly violent blow on his chest.

"Duncan!" Connor shrieked as he began an attack. He sent the katana against Kell's chest as he slammed with the claymore against his neck. Kell stopped the claymore with the right weapon while his left sword diverted the other blow but flew away in the intent. Connor slowly dragged Kell's remaining sword over his own head and against his own shoulder.

"Connor, again that pathetic move you killed my acolyte with?" Kell mocked, retrieving his sword and clouting forward with his wrist blade to block Connor's blow. Jacob also struck with the sword, but Connor had ducked and surged on the other's right. The former priest was completely defenceless and could do nothing when the elder MacLeod severed his head with a master slice.

"You did it, Connor!" Duncan cheered painfully as the wound began to close.

The Gate of Power glowed. Bolts of lightning erupted from it, making Kell's corpse soar, as a green energy hit Connor and Rachel. Duncan stared mesmerised at the image before him. The Dutch was shaken by a blue and white energy that for instants seemed to be black and white. Her body rose and was dragged through the Gate. She came out seconds later, her whole body shining in a sun-like yellow. Connor underwent the same experience. Red and green bolts hit him and a massive force erupting from the Gate attacked his body. He was absorbed by it and when he returned, the strange quickening was over. Connor landed on the Gate. Rachel landed slightly away from him.

Duncan smiled relieved. It was over. Then he felt a shuddering all over him, as he sensed evil in an astoundingly powerful way. A malign laughter echoed in the cave, and the walls began to crumble down. Connor stood up and stared in horror at him. They could both recognise the voice.


	16. Chapter 16

**XVI**

"Oh Connor..." Rachel stood up and said in a voice that he guessed it was somebody else. "You thought it was over. But now I've taken what you love the most." The voice was evil and the grin in Rachel's face reminded Connor of the man he had just killed. "Your sweet war orphan."

Rachel struck at Connor like a flash. Connor fell to a side with a deep wound in his shoulder, from which blood gushed out abundantly. Duncan moved forward to help his clansman, but Rachel sent him away with as much as a move of her arm.

"Rachel!" Connor called, already up but feeling the pain. "Do not let him control you!"

"Rachel died. " The words hurt the Highlander too much, even more when spoken by her. "She and I are one, a marriage consummated by the power of the quickening." Her eyes scowled at him. He felt a dread all over him as he saw pure evil in her eyes.

Rachel struck forward. Connor blocked with a speed that was not his, at least not until the latest quickening. For a second, she grinned defiantly. Connor pushed her away and ducked at her next blow. She kicked at his face but he held her foot and made her fall. He scrambled up and stood in position.

"Rachel! I know you're there! We don't have to do this!"

"Connor..." Rachel said nonchalantly. "She's mine. Mine to use and dispose. An eternal whore to rape again and again."

"NOOOO!" Connor attacked overcome by emotion. His thrust went too far and she hit him hard on the side. He was sent away and he rolled on the floor before hitting a wall, blood on his face and clothes.

"Kell. Jacob Kell." Duncan called from behind. "You and I still have to fight."

"Stay out, Duncan!" Connor commanded, standing up. "This is between him and me. It has always been."

"So you've decided to fight, Connor?" Rachel replied, not sounding like herself anymore, but as Kell.

Connor hesitated for a second but reacted when Rachel moved at the speed of sound against him. He parried her blow and pushed her away with his hand. He struck and sliced her stomach, but not without receiving a fierce attack in his arm. The Highlander retreated and Rachel struck forward. Connor's shoulder was pierced and her sword came out of his back, dripping blood. The Highlander shrieked as he fell on his knees.

"Connor!" Duncan called.

"I told you to stay out, dammit!"

"Bring it on, Duncan." Rachel defied. "I can wipe the floor with you."

Suddenly she stopped. Her head began to move. Connor saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Behind all the evil, she recognised a pinch of what had been his sweet adorable daughter.

"Rachel..."

"Take my head, Connor." She said simply, her body struggling with the other self inside of her.

"No..." Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Please, Connor." She begged with the same simplicity. "You know Kell mustn't survive."

"No!" Connor sobbed.

"For the balance to be restored, the power must return to the Gate." Rachel withdrew the sword from Connor's shoulder and tossed it away. "Oliver died to defeat him. You know this sacrifice must be made... before he controls me again."

Feeling an astounding pain in his shoulder and in his heart, Connor sobered and gripped the hilt of his claymore so strongly his hand bled. "I... love you, Rachel."

"So do I, Connor. I hope I don't have to see you for a long time." She said with a smile of easiness. She knew what she was up to and was determined to do it.

Connor closed his eyes, made a swift move and took her head. The neck of the beheaded woman began to shine. Connor grabbed the body and took it to the Gate, placing her neck right in it. The structure shone intermittently. He could feel an unfathomable flow of energy unleashed somewhere. His own body and Duncan's glimmered. The quickening would not come. The Gate would absorb it. A tremor began. The roof began to fall. A rock hit next to him.

"Connor!" Duncan called. "We have to leave." He had Jin Ke's and Cassandra's bodies on his shoulders.

The elder MacLeod grabbed Rachel's body, which was emitting a strange glow after having been stripped of all the power and knowledge the Dutch had had. He loaded it on his shoulders. They began to run off the cave, the exit of which somehow had become a single path that led outside, rather than the endless maze they had gone through when they entered. No sooner did they get out than the cave fell down, hiding the Gate of Power for eternity.

-----

Connor and Duncan were back in New York. They were by a grave that read:

_RACHEL ELLINSTEIN_

_Beloved. Daughter and friend._

_1933 - 1992._

Next to it, there was another grave that read:

_OLIVER MACLEOD._

_Beloved son of John and Camille. Selfless friend._

_1929 - 1955._

The second sentence on the second line of each grave had been carved roughly, unlike the rest of it, which was indeed the neat work of a grave maker.

"I wish I had known him better..." Duncan blurted out.

"So do I. He was a fine man. They would have been so good together." Connor silently broke into tears.

"She did it to save us, Connor." Duncan consoled his clansman, whose tears fell like pearls from a broken necklace.

"I... I know." Connor said with emotion. "I only wish the powers we received by the Gate had remained with us after defeating Kell, rather than leaving us with Rachel's quickening."

"It was something done to restore the balance. Keeping it would have been unfair... though I wouldn't have minded."

"Neither would I." Connor uttered curtly.

The sky was blue. The weather was not cold. Duncan smiled at the view.

"Would you like a drink, Connor?" The elder Highlander stared at Duncan upon the younger one's question. "You've owned me one for the last ten years, but I pay."

Connor smiled darkly. "Some other time, Duncan."

The elder Highlander began to move away. Duncan regarded the warrior of the endless battles. Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. Son of Caiolin, husband of Heather, father of Rachel. He had seen the three women die. The sacrifice of Rachel had been hard for him. Duncan knew that with her dead, most of Connor's life faded away. He knew that a darkened future was awaiting Connor and hoped he could find peace. But he had the feeling he would see his clansman, mentor and friend again. Not now, but in the distant future.

Connor's shape and presence were a memory. Goodbye had not been said, as always. Duncan put on a pair of dark glasses. He started his way out, gripped by the angst of knowing the owed meeting at the bar would never take place. He suddenly realised that the next time he met Connor, things might very well be different, with a different place and different circumstances. And there would be nothing to keep them away from what was meant to be. Friendship would mean nothing, their bonds would mean nothing. All that would mean a thing was the primal instinct of survival all immortals have, epitomised in the ultimate rule, the one all immortals are bound by: There Can Be Only One. And only then, perhaps, Connor and him would say goodbye to each other... for good.


End file.
